


bruises on both my knees

by guardianoffun



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Car Sex, M/M, Smut, biting in a sexy way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 18:31:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19910275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guardianoffun/pseuds/guardianoffun
Summary: Morse, even as one of the undead, is a fool who doesn't remember to eat. Jakes offers him a quick roadside snack that turns into a bit more than either of them were expecting, but nobody is really complaining.





	bruises on both my knees

**Author's Note:**

> um.... yeh? the thought process here was 'morse is vampire... morse bites jakes... jakes is a horny basatrd... vampire sex?' that's about as much thought as i put into this, hence the lack of any real preamble in it lol 
> 
> inspired largely by Moonlight (specifically the bit where mick has to feed on beth in the hotel, ep 4?) i lifted a fair bit of vampire lore from there bc i would die for mick st john
> 
> again, smut isnt my strong suit so like Sorry For That but w/e enjoy this lol 
> 
> title from billie eilish's bad guy bc im a sucker for that song

Jakes already has his jacket off, throwing it over the backseat. 

“Jakes,” Morse grumbles, twisting in his seat to stare out of the window instead. The setting sun casts dark shadows across his face that only emphasises the extremely unnatural shade of grey he’s turned. Determined not to entertain Morse’s stupid notions of chivalry, Jakes unbuttons his cuffs. 

“I’m not saying drain me Morse, I’m saying take a little, enough to tide you over before Thursday kills me for letting you stand outside all day.” Morse wriggles uncomfortably in his chair. 

“And what if  _ I  _ kill you?” Jakes shrugs. “Then I don’t have to worry about the guv’nor doing it do I?” 

By now his shirt is rolled up to the elbow, and he’s eyeing the veins the run through his wrist. He supposes it looks appetising enough. He jams his forearms under Morse’s nose. 

“Look, idiot, just have some okay?” Morse recoils, head whacking against the headrest with enough force something creaks ominously. 

“Jakes!” he hisses, and it really  _ does  _ sound like a hiss, maybe it’s something to do with the sudden appearance of- oh shit are those fangs? Jakes swallows, hard. Of course, he knew what Morse was, they all did, but it was still one of those things you never really believed until you saw it. But those were fangs. They curled down, two twin blades amongst an otherwise very normal set of teeth. 

That alone Jakes might have handled, but when Morse’s eyes flick up to meet his he can’t help the noise that escapes his throat. Morse’s baby blues have been swallowed up by something otherworldly. Washed out and white, it feels like they can see through him. They probably can. 

With a snap, Morse’s jaw shuts and he presses a fist to his eyes. His lips close tight, and Jakes realises he isn’t breathing. Morse’s other hand goes for the door so Jakes does the only thing he can think of and grabs him by the front of his shirt. 

“Morse, stay in the fucking car, that’s an order.” 

“Get off me Jakes,” he growls. It makes his hair stand on end, but Jakes holds firm. He’s heard the stories, of hungry vamps let loose. It only ever ends one of two ways; they’re either dead from hunger or they kill innocents. Knowing Morse, he’s stubborn enough that the latter won’t happen, and Jakes doesn’t particularly care for the first option either. 

It says a lot that Morse doesn’t just use his undoubtedly more powerful arms to just push Jakes off himself. He wavers. Jakes wiggles his fingers, and sure enough, Morse’s eyes are drawn back the hand at his chest. Jakes watches as he runs his tongue across his lips, and has to fight the urge to laugh hysterically. Morse is literally drooling over him. 

“Don’t do this to me,” Morse says, so quiet Jakes almost misses it. Pale fingers come up to encircle Jakes’ wrist, the other cupping his elbow. “I don’t… I haven’t…” Jakes eyes go wide. 

“Fed on a human?” he breaths. Morse winces. 

“Not in years.” he lets out a shaky breath. “I’m not sure I… know how to stop.” 

Jakes feels a flicker of fear run through him, and then promptly squashes it down under a thick layer of bravado and unearned confidence. 

“Then I’ll just make you.” Morse gives him a hard stare, and somehow despite the teeth and the eyes and the strange glow under his skin, it’s still just Morse. It reassures him a little. Enough, at least, to waves his fingers again. 

“Well go on then.” 

Slowly, so very slowly, Morse brings his arm up to his lips. The cool feel of breath on his forearm feels strangely intimate, and Jakes can’t help the sudden warmth that floods his face.Then Morse’s lips part, and Jakes has to struggle for breath for a second, because  _ shit  _ he didn’t ask if this was going to hurt. Of course it’s going to hurt, he thinks, look at those teeth. 

He braces himself, the hand in Morse’s grip unconsciously clenching into a fist. Morse, without looking, slides his own fingers over and wraps them around his. 

“You want a warning?” he murmurs. Jakes, whose throat is too tight to speak, shakes his head. Rather just get it all over with, he thinks, but before the thought is over, Morse has sunk his teeth into him.

He cries out, of course he does, but it’s more out of the surprise than anything else. The pain isn’t as bad as he had envisioned, not that much worse than slicing his finger on a kitchen knife. Then Morse’s lips press against his skin, and his teeth retract and he’s lapping at the blood that’s trickling down Jakes’ arm. There must be something in Morse’s spit, some vampiric magic because really, this should all be a lot more painful than this, in the very least a lot scarier. As it is, it just feels surreal, two blokes in a car, one with his mouth clamped around the other’s arm. 

Jakes finds the warmth on his face spreading down his neck as he watches Morse drink. The way his neck moves as he swallows, the way his jaw works as he searches for the perfect angle. There’s something strangely hypnotic in his movements, he finds it hard to look away. 

Then Morse does something horribly rude, and starts moaning. The noise rumbles against Jake’s skin, sending fire up his arm. It starts with these small, pleased little hums but there’s something animalistic under it, it almost sounds like he’s growling. There’s something frightfully indecent about it, and Jakes realises uncomfortably that the blood loss must be messing with his brain, because he thinks he might be enjoying this. At least, he’s not upset by it. It actually feels, dare he say it, quite nice. The pain has melted away into a pleasant buzz, a warm burn that’s not completely terrible. It must be some kind of magic making him docile, that’s the only explanation for why he hasn’t tore his arm away yet. 

It doesn’t make sense, because Morse is drinking from him, draining him of the one thing he needs to survive, yet he feels more and more alive with every passing second. More aware of each move Morse is making, more conscious of the way his tongue rakes across his skin and of the scraping of teeth against his arm. The world has suddenly melted away, and it’s just him and Morse and the hot bloody warmth between them. The whole thing has him feeling rather warm elsewhere too. 

He’s almost sad when Morse’s lips part, and he pulls back, but then Morse looks over at him, mouth still full of blood, teeth stained with it and asks. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Wha’?” he says, sure he’s slurring a little. 

“You said something.” Morse says, looking flushed - how the fuck does a vampire look flushed? 

“Did I?” He doesn’t remember saying anything, but he does know what he was thinking. He hopes it wasn’t any of those things he said outloud. Morse stares at him for a second, those milky white eyes shining in the low light. Jakes nods. 

“You done?” Morse looks like he’s ready to say yes, but there’s still a washed out look to him, and Jakes isn’t entirely sure he wants Morse to stop. “Cause you can… more. If you want.” Jesus, where has the silver tongue of Peter Jakes gone, he’s stumbling all over himself. Perhaps it’s because what he wants is to see more, feel more. He wants Morse to bite him all over, wants to know if it’s any different having his bleed him dry from the neck. In a moment of quiet epiphany Jakes realises he wants Morse to suck his dick, not even for blood or anything.  _ Huh _ he thinks  _ not a revelation I had planned on this evening.  _

He finds himself asking Morse, rather pathetically. “Please?” He wants more of it; of Morse’s mouth on him, of Morse’s hands on him, of all of it. Morse gives him an unreadable look and then nods. 

“You can probably spare a little more, I suppose,” he says with a sort-of smile. His mouth is on Jakes again, and any witty response he had is gone. Once again everything fades out, and all Jakes knows is the careful way Morse’s tongue is tracing along his arm. He watches in a daze as Mores lazily tracks up his arm, all the way to the crook of his elbow. As sharp teeth pull at the skin there, not hard enough to draw blood, a shiver of something not wholly unpleasant rolls down his spine. It pools somewhere in his lap, hot and heavy, and Jakes can’t help; his head falls back, his eyes slide shut and he moans. “Morse” 

Without warning, the moment ends. Morse drops his hand like it’s silver. 

“Morse?” He says again, more a question this time. Reality is slowly returning to him, the concept of a world outside of the Jag trickling back into his scrambled brain. 

“Think that’s enough of that,” Morse says, cheeks now a much healthier pink. Jakes glances down at his wrist, still lying in Morse’s lap and picks it up. The pain is a more noticeable now, the open wound now met with cool evening air and none of Morse’s warm venom buzzing through his veins. 

Blood oozes from the two evenly spaced marks, and he stares at it blindly for a second. He should probably  _ do  _ something about it but his head feels all heavy, like he’s had one too many drinks. Morse looks over at him with his big blue eyes again, and something twists in his stomach as he realises he is drunk; on Morse apparently. 

There’s blood dribbling down Morse’s chin - his blood - and Jakes has the strangest urge to lick it off. Inhibitions apparently gone, he leans forward and does just that; licks a trail from the curve of Morse’s jaw all the way up to the corner of his lips. 

Morse, frozen solid the whole time, lets out a soft sounding sigh as he finds his lips, and it’s terribly easy to just take Morse’s bottom lip between his teeth. His whole body sags, softens at Jakes’ kiss. It makes something in Jakes want to crow with delight, he has finally captured the rarest of creatures, one DC Endeavour Morse. 

He lets himself push it a little further, he presses a tongue against Morse’s lips, finds his way into that unstoppable mouth of his; lets the venom from those teeth set his own mouth ablaze.

It’s a heavy, heady feeling kissing Morse. Perhaps because the lucky bugger doesn’t breathe, it seems to drag on forever. Morse slow and steady, whilst Jakes is breathing heavy against him, fast and loud. He’s making all sorts of terribly indecent noises as he claws at Morse’s chest, trying to suggest with his hands that they move this somewhere more comfortable stretched across the gearbox of the Jag. 

Morse must pick up on it, because in an instant Jakes finds himself bouncing onto the backseat, limbs spread indecently, and Morse sat tight, right between his legs. This time it’s Morse’s tongue in his mouth, filling him with a boozy kind of buzz he only gets from the real expensive kind of wines. Just as Jakes leans up, meaning to run his hands through Morse’s hair, the constable freezes. His eyes are caught on Jakes outstretched arm, the one still bleeding, albeit a lot slower now. 

“I’m not doing this Jakes,” he breathes against Jakes’ chin. “You don’t know what you’re doing. Feeders rush,” he says softly, and Jakes has to bite back his annoyed growl. 

“You really gonna make me spell it out for you Morse?” He leans forward and presses his lips to Morse’s throat, where if he had one, his pulse would be singing. 

“I’ve wanted to do this for a long,  _ long  _ time.” he murmurs, the feeling of hot breath on cold skin making him dizzy. Morse lets out a choked “Really?” as Jakes starts making his way down his neck. Jakes nods as his nose bumps collar. He uses his good hand to make quick work of it so that he can continue mouthing along Morse’s collarbone. 

Morse lets out a strangled laugh. “Isn’t that my job?” Jakes snorts, and in response, drags his unremarkable human teeth along pale skin. 

“Go on then love.” He stretches back, leaving his neck exposed in what he hopes is an alluring manner. Morse gives him a weak kind of stare. 

“This is ridiculous,” he says, but his teeth are bared again. Jakes discovers in that moment, he finds that unbearably hot. 

“Oh god Morse, shut up and bite me, please,” he says, voice so thick he can barely breathe. Morse lets out some wild noise from the back of his throat and lunges for him.

As soon as Morse’s teeth sink into him, his head falls back. It really should hurt, it really shouldn’t feel so good, but the same delicious rush fills him again. He’s tuned in to every move Morse makes; the tightening of a hand in his hair, the bruising grip of clawed fingers in his shoulder. He’s especially aware of the rocking motion Morse is making as he feeds. Nestled between Jakes’ thighs, Morse is almost grinding on his lap he moves with such speed. It’s criminal, honestly. 

Blearily, with all the coordination of a blind man, Jakes paws at Morse’s hips. He guides Morse closer, pressing him closer to himself so that every part of them is touching. Morse’s arms wrap tighter around him and it sends a wonderful feeling down Jakes’ spine. He knows Morse could snap him in two, or drain him right here in an instant. He isn’t, but he  _ could  _ and Jakes is taking great pleasure in dancing around that line. He tries to turn his head, to get a better look at the man going to town on him, but cold hands pin him to the spot, and that alone has him aching against the confines of his trousers. 

He lets his free hand fall to his lap, snake it’s way between him and Morse so he can palm himself through his trousers. Morse notices what he’s doing and laughs against his neck. He pulls back, an odd look on his face. Jakes, disappointed at the lack of Morse on him, whines. 

“Morse, seriously,” he huffs. “You’re gonna feed off me and not even let my finish. Unfair.” Morse’s eyes drop to where his hand has vanished into his trousers. 

“You should,” he starts, and then pauses as Jakes’ breath hitches for a second. “You should be terrified of me,” he whispers. Jakes, who by now is watching him through half-lidded eyes, groans. 

“Morse I seriously think you’re underestimating how hot you look right now.” 

Morse scoffs. No matter how hard he tries, he’s a messy feeder; his clothes are crumpled, there’s blood on nearly every finger and it’s dripping down his chin too. He knows what his dull white stare looks like, the pasty sheen his skin takes on and it’s not supposed to be hot. But here Jakes sits, in the back of the Jag, jerking off to the image of Morse bloody and hungry on top of him. 

Morse’s musings are interrupted by a sudden choking noise coming from Jakes, and then he finds himself being pulled forward by his shirt, until he crashes against Jakes’ chest. 

“I swear to god,” Jakes growls against his ear, hips bucking beneath him. “You finish what you fucking started here Morse, or you’re on desk duty for a week, fuck it, a month.” 

“But you’re-” Jakes wants to scream. “Of sound mind right now Morse, but I won’t be if you don’t-” Morse shuts him up by turning and catching his lips. Jakes murmurs into his mouth that might have been ‘ _ fucking finally’  _ but past that it seems Jakes has lost the abilty to speak. 

Morse finds Jakes’ hand, the one in his pants, and shoves it out of the way none too gently. Jakes all but hisses as cold fingers wrap around his cock. He fucks himself against Morse’s grip, desperate and needy and full of a desire that burns so hot he fears he might implode. It’s a miracle he doesn’t melt Morse. He can feel sweat beading at his temple, running down his neck. It mixes into the crimson streaks and then Morse leans forward and licks at it. Meticulously, he chases every line, until there’s nothing to show except two already closing puncture marks at the base of Jakes’ throat. Jakes’ arm on the other hand is still a complete mess. Whilst the venom might have closed up the cuts, he’s got blood all over those long slender fingers. 

One hand still pumping Jakes’ dick, Morse uses the other to pull up Jakes’ bloodied hand. He waits until Jakes cracks an eye open, and then very slowly pulls his hand towards his mouth, testing. Jakes nods wildly, so Morse lets his lips part. He watches Jakes’s face as he takes one, two fingers in his mouth; the red hot blush that floods his face, the way his jaw clenches. 

As he runs his tongue along the length of each finger, Jakes twitches beneath his hand. He torments him for a while, lazily sucking on each finger. He savours the taste of Jakes, the sweet warmth that is unlike anything he’d ever tasted even in his human days. He’s taken perhaps too much from Jakes already, and there might never be another time he’s offered a meal so freely. The thought makes some animalistic, possessive part of him roar.

He flexes his fingers, at the same time letting his fangs scrape along Jakes’. The effect is almost instantaneous. Jakes’ back arches, the fingers in Morse’s mouth curl, and he stutters out an “Oh shit,” before coming completely undone beneath him. He collapses back against the seat, chest heaving and Morse gives him a few seconds, before letting his fingers fall from his mouth with a wet  _ pop _ . 

Morse watches with fascination as Jakes rides out the high, his now empty hand falling to cup his own dick. There’s something quite wonderful in a messy, post-shag Jakes all heavy breathing and long, languid movements. It takes a while for the buzz to fade, and by the time Jakes has come to his senses, Morse is hard and aching beside him. Jakes gives him a lazy smile. 

“Want me to get that for you?” Morse doesn’t have much time to formulate a decent answer because Jakes is already pushing him up against the car door and unbuttoning his trousers. There’s not exactly an abundance of room back here, but Jakes is efficient, he folds himself into the space and slips himself between Morses’ legs. He looks up at Morse as he tugs down his pants, and waggles his eyebrows comically before taking Morse in his mouth. 

“Oh fuck, Peter!” 

His hands find Jakes hair, and he can’t help pulling on it. Jakes nods appreciatively, the movement sending the most wonderful feeling up Morse’s spine. 

Morse has had his dick sucked before, back when he was a human, but he’ll admit it’s not something he thought wise to try now that he has the power to snap a neck if he jerks his hips too fast. He has to say though, provided nobody dies this might be one of the best blowjobs he’s ever had. 

Perhaps it was Jakes, he did have a mouth on him after all, and boy is he using it. Everything is deliciously warm and hot and Jakes’ hands are finding their way up his thighs too and it’s all far too much. 

He was being tortured, that he was sure of; Jakes was teasing him with his tongue, hollowing his cheeks and humming, tormenting him endlessly. Just as he felt himself unravelling, Jakes eyes met his and he gasped.

“I’m gonna fucking-“ he manages to eek out, and Jakes just  _ winks _ at him. He comes like that, sergeant’s lips around his dick, and barely notices when he pulls back. 

When he finally comes to his senses, Morse realises that Jakes has turned almost as pale as him. He reaches out a hand and finds his shoulder, concern spiking in him as Jakes sways under his touch. 

“Jakes?” He asks gently. Jakes eyes come up to meet his, all glassy and for one terrifying second Morse fears he’s turned Jakes. Stupid, of course, a turning requires a lot more than whatever they’ve just done but still, Morse is more than a little worried about the state he’s in. Jakes manages to nod once, before his eyes roll back and he collapses on the back seat. 

Morse cries out of course, another pang of fear slicing through him; has he  _ killed  _ Jakes? He reaches for him, hands meeting clammy skin. He feels warm, but then everyone does to him, but maybe not quite as warm as he should. When Morse shakes him, he gets no answer.

Still not entirely convinced he hasn’t just killed his sergeant (after also having fucked him in a car,  _ oh god what has he done _ ) he clambers back into the front seat and rams the keys in the ignition. He drives with one eye on the backseat and his unbeating heart in his throat. This all feels like a very big mistake.

* * *

Jakes wakes up in an unfamiliar bed. He’s face down on top of the sheets, still wearing his jacket and tie, though someone has slid his shoes off. Groggily he shuffles himself upright, rubbing at his eyes as the fog of sleep fades. His head swims a little and it feels like he’s a little bit loose, not quite sure of himself. 

The feeling of being watched prickles at his side. He glances over to find Morse staring, apparently unblinking at him, gnawing on his bottom lip. Neither of them speak for a moment.

“How are you feeling?” Morse asks, very politely. Jakes isn’t quite sure himself, so wiggles his fingers and twists his neck, experimenting.

“Okay, I think? What happened?” 

Morse looks shifty, rubbing at the back of his neck and staring anywhere that isn’t Jakes. “You mean before or after the…” He gestures between them. Jakes gives him a bratty smile. 

“After I sucked your dick? I remember that much, don’t think you could do much to make me forget.” 

Despite the fact Morse cannot blush, he does a pretty good job of looking embarrassed. 

“You ah… passed out. Blood loss I think,” he tries a weak smile. His hand dips into a small paper bag lying on the table beside him, and he pulls something out, throwing it to Jakes. He manages to catch it and stares down at it; a pill bottle, iron supplements. 

“You might try a few of those, they’ll help.” Jakes pours out a few and takes the glass of water Morse pushes towards him. 

“Thought you said you didn’t feed off humans,” he says, swallowing the pills. “Don’t tell me you went and got these special?” Morse barks out a laugh. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, they were a gift,” a genuine smile lights up Morse’s face for a second. “Mrs. Thursday thought I could do with them, before she realised what I was.” They fall quiet again as Jakes drains the glass of water. Morse watches him with a different sort of hunger in his eyes, it’s like he’s fascinated by the way he moves, the human-ness of him. Perhaps he should feel uneasy about it, but Jakes finds it oddly endearing. 

“Can I get you anything else?” Morse asks, fingers steepled in front of him. Jakes shrugs with a smile. 

“Don’t suppose you’ve got anything to eat around here?”

**Author's Note:**

> if anyone else wants to write some vampire au pls dear god do it i'll be ur friend forever


End file.
